


Treatise

by RisuAlto



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Bonding with your past life, Caed Nua, Gen, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: Aloth was intimately familiar with the systematic way in which scholarly texts were organized.  He knew, of course, that Iselmyr never was, but books somehow still brought them closer.  An unconventional formula was still valid, he supposed, if it produced results.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser & Iselmyr
Kudos: 8
Collections: Pillars of Eternity Prompts Weekly





	Treatise

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt #0008, I rolled “Aloth,” “book,” and “questions.” 
> 
> This story works with any Watcher, since they’re only mentioned twice in passing.

Nighttime in the library of Brighthollow always carried a nostalgic sense of comfort. Said library was no longer in disrepair, thanks to the Watcher’s focus and Steward’s efforts, but it still bore the scars of abandonment and decay—slight discolorations in the wood where it had been restored and the outdated continental maps on the walls, to name a few. Dust, now freed from between the pages of various tomes, swirled lazily in the arcane torchlight, never quite settling down no matter how peaceful it was. Aloth wrapped himself in the dust, parchment, and shadows like a well-loved blanket. He shifted slightly, relieving his arms from the bite of the table’s edge, but his eyes never left the book laid out in front of him.

These theories—the theories of Eoran cosmology—had entranced him for a long time, but since animancy became a major field of research, its studies had fallen out of the spotlight. Finding this book tucked underneath a pile of botany references was simply fortuitous. It felt a bit like fulfilling a childhood dream.

The book, truth be told, was a little heavier on the mythological connections to the stars (speculating on which creation _myths_ might provide hints as to the _real_ physical processes) than it was focused on the mechanics of cosmic bodies. However, Aloth found he didn’t mind so much. The author clearly _did_ know what they were talking about, and it wasn’t as though myths were uninteresting given everything he, and everyone in Brighthollow, had been through recently. He might have preferred something a bit more concrete, but in the stillness of the library, he thought this would do perfectly well for now.

A tug at Aloth’s vision blurred his vision like a headrush. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the darkness from the corners of his eyes. His place on the page before him was lost by the time the sensation had cleared, and he felt a tired hiss trying to fight its way up through his lungs. _What could you _possibly_ want now?_ he wondered sharply.

However, the full-on shove to his consciousness that he was expecting never came. Unlike normal, it seemed that Iselmyr was content to focus on whatever he was seeing and nothing else. His hands, legs, head, and voice all stayed in his own control, and Aloth was as confused as he was relieved.

Things between him and Iselmyr had been tense since Sun in Shadow, but they were also better. Maybe it was that Aloth was no longer fighting or fearing for his life on the daily. Maybe it was just that he stopped trying so hard to pretend she didn’t exist. The perpetual sensation of holding his breath, however, was preferable to consistent animosity and disappointment, so Aloth didn’t care to upset the balance by examining it too aggressively.

In this case, he did nothing except to run a finger along the page until he landed at the paragraph he had lost before. His hand pulled back, resting half on the table, half on the pages of the book as his eyes slowly retraced their steps.

He was about half a sentence away from total re-immersion when Iselmyr’s voice pierced the back of his mind. _Fye, ah dinnae git it! Yer spellbook was bad enou’ when ye were in th’ Academy!_

Aloth pinched his eyes shut. “If you would prefer not to read about cosmology, there is nothing preventing you from just going to sleep,” he muttered, drumming each finger once across the surface of the table.

_Cosmology?_ Iselmyr’s voice seemed to fit misshapenly around the word, as though unsure how it should sound in her own accent. _Eh, is tha’ whit yer readin’ aboot?_

“Don’t be coy,” Aloth huffed, trying once again to focus on the book in front of him.

Frustration shot through his veins like lightning, beginning in his throat and tearing through to the base of his stomach, stress and tightness following in its wake. Familiarity followed like a rumble of thunder and Aloth was shaken off guard. This was the feeling of too many failures for something that should be simple, something like his memories too many singed fingers but no arcane fire to show for it, too much sleep lost trying over and over and over to just _understand_.

It was guilt and anger and shame all gathered into one feeling that was ready to bubble over. A hand (he was trembling, suddenly) came up to brush a lock of hair from Aloth’s eyes, but the backs of his fingers came away cold and wet. He stared at the shimmering liquid on his skin, disbelieving, until the urge to blink overcame him and another tear was loosed on his cheek.

“You never learned to read.” Like something abruptly remembered, Aloth let the words pass his lips without thinking, and yet knew at the instant they formed that it was the truth.

Iselmyr was silent and small in the back of his mind.

Puzzle pieces began to float into place as they both sat there with only the crackling of torches for ambiance. Iselmyr had always been able to take control when Aloth was afraid. This he knew concretely. Yet it took nearly until the year that they left Aedyr for her to be able to cast spells in a fight, and even then, there were moments when Aloth heard her cry out in frustration as the incantations and arcane matrices slipped through her grasp. It only happened when Aloth had the least control—usually when he was most afraid, having been struck or beaten back into a corner of his mind—

—as though without Aloth’s awareness, Iselmyr could no longer comprehend the grimoire’s sigils.

_Lat it be, lad,_ she hummed bitterly.

“Do you want to?” Aloth asked. Immediately, he bit his lip, realizing it was a stupid question. Of _course_ she wanted to learn or she wouldn’t care so much, but he _knew_ Iselmyr, and there would be a spring thaw in the White Void before her pride would allow her to accept help. Especially from him.

Aloth decided that the grain of this new library table was absolutely fascinating. The flow of time visible in the wood, having been carved into functionality or some semblance thereof was— 

A warm jolt burst through Aloth’s limbs then, and, like a reflex, he briefly fought back to maintain control of his body. But there was a steadiness behind the intentions invading his consciousness that surprised Aloth, and so he relented, allowing Iselmyr to shove the chair back from the table and walk towards one of the bookshelves. 

She squinted, hands trailing over the spines of books until at last she found something. A click of satisfaction reverberated through Aloth’s consciousness as she drew it from the shelf and walked back to the table. Iselmyr pushed the cosmology tome away from the edge and unceremoniously dropped the new book in its place.

Aloth shook his head as she retreated just enough to cede control but not enough to go unnoticed. He leaned forward and examined the book. “_Aedyran Dialects_,” he read aloud, eyes opening wide. “You mean—”

_Jus’ read it, lad,_ Iselmyr snapped.

Aloth did. He took up the book (this one was far lighter than the last) and settled it against his chest, one hand dropping to follow his eyes along the page as he began to recite the passages. His voice was low and quiet, but it was still so strange. Reading had always meant silence, answers tugged from some combination of text and intuition, so reading aloud to the voice in his head? It felt a lot like running through his morning routine but entirely out of order.

Even so, serenity was slowly suffusing his (no, their) body. Lazy stillness began once again to curl its fingers around everything in the library except the untamable dust motes, accepting Aloth’s voice as a part of the atmosphere.

With the library mostly underground, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed when Aloth finally stopped, settling the book closed with a soft thump. He swallowed dryly, attempting to soothe his tired throat, but it caught and turned into a dry cough. “I’ll, er… get some water,” he said softly. “And this is as good a place as any to call it a night.”

_Ah’m nit yer muther, Aloth_, Iselmyr said, chuckling into his head. _Ye dinnae have t’ tell me win ye mean ta git some sleep_.

Aloth made his way upstairs, stopping in the kitchen to down a glass of water and thanking his foresight for not having worn armor down to the library before he collapsed into his bed. But self-satisfaction was only half the reason for the smile on his lips that persisted, even in sleep, through the night.

The next morning came far too soon for Aloth’s liking. He had let the deprecation for staying up so late set in before he even rolled out of bed. As he began tying his hair back, though, changing into something more presentable, an eager Iselmyr muttered, _So, tell me aboot that “cosmology,” lad_. 

“Over breakfast, perhaps,” he said. His lips stayed pressed into their characteristically neutral line, but made no effort to deny the pleased spark in his chest. These probably weren’t the questions the Watcher was thinking of when suggesting that he and Iselmyr get to know each other, but it was progress. And, for the moment, Aloth was far too caffeine deprived (far too _content_) to argue with progress.


End file.
